Mimicry
by littlebyrdie42
Summary: The war is over. Everything's fine - according to the Ministry. But if everything is fine, why is the Wizarding world's hero locked up in a mental ward, and why does no one seem to care or know about it?
1. Chapter 1

_Mr. Malfoy:_

_We are pleased to inform you that in light of your recent trial, you shall complete one thousand hours of community service in place of a prison sentence. All services must be presented to and approved by the Wizengamot before it may count towards your total._

_We hope that—_

Abandoning the last sentences of the letter, Draco muttered, "What a load of bullshit," and tossed the finely made parchment into the fire before turning back to his recently deserted whisky bottle. The clock struck nine, its deep tolls echoing throughout a lifeless house drenched in all-too-bright morning sunlight.

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Author's Note: So, this is my first fanfic ever - the first ever published, that is. The format for the fic, if you were wondering, will be something along the lines of 100 words for four chapters, then 1,000 every fifth chapter. See my profile if you want to know more about the plot or if you want to know when the story will be updated.

Now, I'm a reader as well as an author, so I know you're sitting there thinking something along the lines of, "Eh, I _should_ review. I don't really want to, though, nor do I feel like it," and I get that. However, it would be nice if you reviewed :)


	2. Chapter 2

_Another day, another owl, Draco thought to himself, smirking slightly at the joke before frowning to himself—since when did he find humor in his own jokes? And such terrible ones, at that._

An owl sat on the windowsill nearest to him. He wasn't sure how it had managed to get through his wards, considering it didn't seem to be a ministry owl, but that was a puzzle for another day. He stared intently at it, and it stared intently back as he took the letter it clenched in its beak. It bit him. "Damn owls." The owl huffed.

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Sorry if I confused anyone with the other upload. Things were being weird.

Thanks to those who read the last chapter and to muna for reviewing. The next chapter will be posted later today.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_St. Mungo's was informed recently that you are looking for opportunities to volunteer at the hospital. If you so wish, please come in for an interview with the head of staff tomorrow, the 17__th__ of July, at eleven o'clock._

_Clarissa Nettil_

_Secretary to Albert Kash_

Draco shrugged, calculating that if he worked forty hours a week at the hospital, he would complete his thousand hours in half a year and possibly have references for a future job. He doubted it would be so easy, but it was worth a shot. Anything is when one wants to be free.

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Did I say later today? I meant... now.  
For the record, I've given up on trying to make each exactly 100 words, because nothing wants to give me the same word count, so I don't know what's true anymore o.o

Psst. Enough reviews and I'll upload chapter four. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Draco strode through the main doors of St. Mungo's with confidence that had not dissipated over the four years that he had been all but locked away from the world. "I have an appointment with Albert Kash," he informed the girl at the front desk. She shuffled through a stack of papers unassumingly, coming across his name in a few moments.

"Draco Mal—" She paused. "Oh. Yes. He's waiting for you. His office is just down the hall, first door on the left." The girl fidgeted with her hair, looking anywhere but at his face.

This would be fun.

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How am I doing with character? Good? Bad? Awful?  
I'm trying my best.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Kash was sitting at a dark-wooded desk, scratching away at a leaf of parchment when Draco walked in. As the door shut behind the youngest Malfoy, he glanced up, put his quill down, and stood to shake Draco's hand. "Morning, Mr. Malfoy. It's good to see that you're interested in volunteering here." _Not as if I have much of a choice_, Draco thought bitterly. Instead of saying just that, he offered Kash a tight-lipped grimace and took the seat in front of the man's desk without asking. Kash ignored this.

"So," he said, shuffling though some papers, "I know that this is mandatory for you, but I also heard that you were thinking about becoming a Healer when you were younger," _Damn McGonagall, _"so I think this will work out perfectly for both of us. Generally, we don't let people volunteer for us that are doing so under legal obligation, but your case… is rather special. If you'll just follow me." Mr. Kash strode to the door, holding it open for Draco. Curious, he followed. He had not been informed of any sort of 'special circumstances'.

The walk down the various wards of the hospital was a silent and rather discouraging one. There seemed to be patients upon patients with incurable diseases, diseases procured form the War. As they wandered deeper and deeper through a maze that made no sense to Draco, who had never truly visited the hospital before, the diseases switched from physical to mental. _Makes sense,_ he thought bitterly, _they want to keep the loons as far away from any exits as possible._ After the two men had passed several of his former classmates, he kept his eyes trained on the floor, trying to find some sort of a pattern in the dark linoleum. He couldn't.

"Here we are," Kash said after what seemed like had been hours of walking. His voice was subdued and whispering, the edges of his words softened and brushing gently over the clean, pale walls. There was some sort of artificial light source hanging around in the air, most likely far above their heads, because everything was lit, but at the same time, nothing was. It was dark and eerie, and Draco had to wonder if there had been some point where they had traveled underground; it was rather claustrophobic in the narrow hallway.

"There's one particular patient we want you to work with while we're here. We've—well, we've frankly given up much of our hope with him. He's been here for about three years, and we haven't made any progress with him. Maybe a year ago, we decided that he wasn't going to get any better. But then, a few months ago, he spoke. Not in length, of course. He said but one word." Kash turned towards the closest room, peering in though a tiny window. It reminded Draco of a prison cells. It was no wonder why people went crazy. Who wouldn't, when they were so cut off from the world?

"Er, what did he say?" Draco winced at the break in the quiet air. He supposed one had to almost practice speaking to the point of near silence; his voice sounded too loud, too harsh, like the ripping of a precious book's page in a library—everyone noticed, and everyone stared, and you knew that you had made a mistake that would not be forgiven until you left.

Mr. Kash glanced back to him, the look on his face saying that he'd forgotten who he was with. "Your name. Malfoy."

Draco raised his eyebrows, thoughts racing. Who on Earth would be so obsessed with him that he would be silent for _three years _before saying his name, and only saying his name? "That's insane. Whoever this is is insane." He wasn't sure he would be willing to work with someone so insane.

Kash looked at him with pity in his eyes. "I know. You're our only hope, though. And you're going to be very reluctant, and I hate to pull this card, but—we're probably your only hope."

He winced. The man was most likely correct. No one wanted a Malfoy working amongst them, let alone the Malfoy that Harry Potter was most at-odds with. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll work with him. But as soon as he shows signs of improvement, and I mean as soon as, I'm not working with him anymore."

"Sign this," Kash commanded, pulling a form out of nowhere. It was a contract, of sorts, saying that he couldn't back out on his word.

Wary, he signed, glaring at Kash with newfound respect. The man seemed to know business better than he appeared to. _This patient must be crazier than I'm imagining_, Draco thought. The door to the patient's room swung open with a creak that belonged in a horror movie, and when he looked back, there was no one there but the few nurses that always scurry around hospitals. It was almost hilariously suspicious.

Nevertheless, he swung the door behind himself and looked around the room. It was stark white and had very little personalization, save for a picture frame. Upon closer inspection, he discovered the frame had yet to be given a picture apart from the one whatever manufacturer had put there for decoration purposes. The floor was carpeted in a brown that suggested it had been white at one point, and there was a single window that, as he watched, looped a bird flying due north. He frowned. The place didn't seem welcoming, let alone fit for a hospital patient, whether said patient was sane or not.

Speaking of the patient, he was sitting on the iron-rod bed, knees tucked under his chin. His dark hair reached just to his shoulders, and his eyes, dark without thought, stared straight at the blank wall ahead of him. Draco shuddered. He had no sympathy for this man, this man that had saved the world and had left his friends and admirers behind. The man that had given no explanation, for anything. The man that he had hated for years.

Harry Potter.

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Not sure how I feel about this chapter. I don't think it's my best work, by far.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco promptly ran—not walked, not strode, but ran—out of the hospital room.

Later that evening, he fire-called Astoria Greengrass, with whom he had begun a mutually beneficial relationship. "I can't believe they want be to work with him, of all people," he hissed. "Harry freaking Potter, the savior of our world, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Chosen One! We all owe him, and I don't want to have any part in that!"

Astoria was examining her nails, all but ignoring his rant, as she often did. "Silly Draco. This is the perfect opportunity for you to be _free_ of his debt."

"That's why I like you, Tori."

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A little over the word limit, but...  
Btw, thanks for the kind reviews people :)


	7. Chapter 7

The hospital workers nodded to Draco as he passed them in the hallway. They were getting used to seeing him around; it had been a few weeks since he had started to work with Potter. He still hated the man and he got more and more fed up with him every day, but he was doing his job, if only to have something to do with his time. Astoria refused to do anything but talk with him, and promised to continue doing so until he was done with his 'services'.

He was in a bad mood before he had even entered the room.

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So, I was thinking about abandoning the format of this story and just writing it with long chapters - long meaning about 1,000 words each. Thoughts?

Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, and putting this on your watch and favorites lists. It means a lot whenever I log in and look at my Traffic Stats :) A big thank you to Insane Worm, who writes really sweet reviews :)


	8. Chapter 8

Potter was, as he always had been since Draco had begun 'taking care' of him, sitting in his metal bed, staring at the stark white wall. "Good morning," Draco said, taking a seat in the room's sole straight-back chair and taking the day's _Prophet_ out, only to put it away as soon as he read the main headline. "_Draco Malfoy released from prison, in society's debt,_" he quoted mockingly.

"Stupid, stupid paper. Stupid public. Stupid everything. You're stupid too, Potter." Secretly, he looked somewhat forward to the daily visits with the hospital resident. It gave him something to do.

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Yeah, so this chapter went nowhere.

As of the next chapter, I'll be starting the new 1,000-format thingy-mabob I asked about yesterday, since everyone that said something about it was in favor of not continuing this format. So, I here ya.

By the way, I'm going to be out of town until VERY LATE Friday night, so I probably won't get anything up until Saturday the 30th, just so you guys know. I promise I'll have at least one very long chapter to put up, maybe two :) Hope you guys have a good few days! I'll be college visiting. YAY


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